


in the still of the night

by thisbluespirit



Category: Cadfael Chronicles - Ellis Peters, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: 500 prompts, Community: 100fandoms, Community: 51pluscrossoverfandoms, Community: allbingo, Community: hc_bingo, Crossover, Gen, Injury, Post-Episode: s09e12 Hell Bent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:01:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26813326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisbluespirit/pseuds/thisbluespirit
Summary: The Doctor finds balm for his wounds in an unexpected place.
Comments: 20
Kudos: 37
Collections: Allbingo, Hurt/Comfort Bingo - Round 11, The 100 Multifandom Challenge, The 51 Plus Crossover Fandoms Challenge





	in the still of the night

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Meneleth in the [500 Prompts Meme](http://lost-spook.dreamwidth.org/291842.html): 82 – in the still of the night – Twelfth Doctor & Cadfael. Also for hc_bingo square "Archaic Medical Treatment", allbingo square "Moss - Charity", 100fandoms prompt 26 (balm) and 51pluscrossoverfandoms prompt 26 (comfort).

The Doctor opened his eyes wide, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling. It wasn’t an inspiring view, mostly wood and plaster, maybe even mud. It was surprisingly low, even given his current prone position. The place was dark, lit only by one candle that cast flickering shadows.

“Softly, now. Lie still or you’ll undo all my good work,” said a voice from beside him. The Doctor didn’t recognise it, but the speaker sounded calm and unthreatening, and that accent was familiar from somewhere. Rifts, the Doctor thought. Maggots. Cardiff.

“You’re Welsh.”

“And you must be a Scot.”

The Doctor turned his head to look at the Welshman and saw an unremarkable older man in a monk’s habit. Great. Didn’t exactly pin down the century that much. Monks tended to just be, well, monkish. And probably inclined to shriek about witchcraft if they noticed you had two hearts and a bad habit of running into invading aliens.

“A little far south for cattle raiding, I’d have said.” The monk had a gleam in his eye and a humorous lift to his voice.

The Doctor risked propping himself up on his elbows, then winced sharply and sat properly. His left arm had been neatly bound up but didn’t seem keen on being leant on yet. Other parts of him were protesting, but only faintly. He’d be fine soon enough, if this ignorant human hadn’t done anything too primitive. The healing sleep he’d woken from seemed to have done its job and he didn’t need to be bled, thank you, or force-fed willow-bark, or have anything amputated.

“They found you lying wounded in the clearing by the mill,” said the monk, still sounding calm. Probably making sure he didn’t antagonise the madman. “There were several bodies there, but you were the only one yet living. I’m sorry. You had lost a great deal of blood, but I cleaned you and bound your wounds as best as I could once the brothers at the Friary sent for me.”

The Doctor stretched his legs. They seemed to be okay. He looked at the monk and gave a grin. “I should probably thank you.”

“Do you recall what befell you and your companions?”

It was coming back to him now. Technically, those humans had been dead already, what with those stray Ga-hut possessing them. Nobody could have revived them even once he’d sent the unwanted visitors packing. He cleared his throat. “Not my friends. I’m just a traveller. Stumbled on those others fighting off some attackers. Outlaws, thieves, I don’t know. Maybe you can tell me.”

The monk frowned.

“Oh, you wouldn’t understand.” The Doctor shrugged. “Better to stay tucked away in your nice little monastery and not worry about that kind of thing.”

The monk paused for a moment and then merely said, “Since this isn’t the Abbey, I’ve a way to go before I reach home, so that advice would be hard to take. Besides, I was not always in holy orders. I saw much of the world before I took my vows. I’ve dealt with many of the wounds of war before, both of the body and the soul. You may trust me.”

“I doubt that,” said the Doctor. “Not as a physician, anyway. Not at this time of the millennia. You can keep your blood-letting and your leeches, thank you.”

“Oh, you had lost blood enough for one night. Sleep is the best healer, and you were already attending to that. No need for any of my simples.”

“Hmph. Listen, amongst the bodies, was there a boy? Red-haired, maybe about this high?” The Doctor raised his good arm as far as he could. “I thought I’d got there in time to help him, if not the others.”

The monk’s face creased in sympathy. “I’m sorry to say there was such a lad, but he was dead. He lies in the chapel at the friary and we will give him Christian burial soon.”

The Doctor closed his eyes. It was only another human, one he’d barely had time to get to know before the Ga-hut had snatched him, but he’d like to have saved him. To have saved _someone_. Right now, it felt as if he kept failing on that score. He couldn’t remember quite what was making him feel that way now more than usual, but there was definitely something he was forgetting, and not only because of a bump over the head in a medieval wood. Something that persisted and had jagged edges that caught on everything, especially his hearts. 

“Well, nothing can be done for the poor lad now, not in body,” said the monk. “As for his soul, the good brothers say prayers for him, have no fear. You, moreover, are alive, and will do better for some food. I will find Brother John. He promised he would send broth for you when you woke. Plain fare, perhaps but nourishing.” He gave the Doctor a smile. “I am called Cadfael. What of you?”

“I’m the Doctor.”

Cadfael studied him. “A man of learning, then? You have the look of it.” He rose, brushing dust and stray from his robe. “Now, about that broth –”

“What century is this, by the way?”

Cadfael turned.

“I mean, what is the latest news?” said the Doctor hastily. He never liked it when people tried to burn him. “I’ve been travelling all over the place. Haven’t been keeping up with tweets and blogs.” He gave a wild grin. “You know how it is.”

Cadfael raised his eyebrows. “I am not certain I do, Doctor. But I have little good news to tell. The fighting between the King and Empress continues while the country suffers for it. We are not far from Shrewsbury here – and the King’s rule is recognised in these parts.”

“Understood,” said the Doctor, appreciating the spirit of the warning, even if it wasn’t applicable in his case. “And I’m not in anyone’s service. I just try to help people where I can. Sometimes it’s too late.”

“Now that feeling I do recognise, and only too well.” Cadfael sighed. “I am a healer, in charge of the herbarium, but that duty goes hand in hand with death more often than I like. I also have been too late to save the innocent, to my sorrow.”

The Doctor nodded. “Death and I are old friends, too. Except friends is probably too strong a word. We used to play chess from time to time. They cheat. But then, so do I.”

“You have seen battles?”

“Too many.”

“Yes,” said Cadfael, then drew himself up again, though he was of no great height. “Still, here we both are, yet in the land of the living, and we must do what we can. For the moment, I will take joy that I could persuade death to spare you. Wait there, and I will fetch your supper. After you have eaten, if your strength holds, you may tell me tales of the north, for that is somewhere I have never been.” He broke into a laugh. “Yet, at least!”

“The North? Oh, it’s a very strange place up there. You’d never believe me.”

The Doctor watched his unlikely rescuer head off and pulled himself to his feet. Time to go, before he had to experience medieval monastic cuisine again, or, even worse, any more archaic medical treatment. But he did feel, for a moment, a pang of regret, at not waiting for Cadfael to return.

“We must do what we can,” he murmured under his breath, before he slipped out into the night. Yes. He would do what he could. That was the thing. And he was the Doctor, so that amounted to being pretty amazing. Most of the time, at least. Certainly some of the time. Or maybe just every once in a while, but it was a damned _good_ once in a while.

He grinned and hastened away out into the starlit pre-industrial night.


End file.
